


lay me down beneath the noise

by crocodile



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Established Relationship, Estinien with implied draconic features, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 07:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22132159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocodile/pseuds/crocodile
Summary: Aymeric just wants stop thinking, if only for a night.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 10
Kudos: 140





	lay me down beneath the noise

Aymeric cannot hear anything over the high-pitched ringing in his ears.

He stares blankly down at the thin stack of casualty reports on his desk. Orders of reparations to the families of the last deaths of the Dragonsong war, and the first casualty of the new era. Beside that stack are packets from each of the High Houses detailing line-item funding requests for the next year. And even further, on the edge of his desk, invitations and personal letters, each most likely needing to be burned to prevent accusations of political and economic misconduct.

He goes to sign a reparation order only to find that his pen has long since gone dry. His eyes blur when he tries to read the first page of House Dzemael's budget. Thousands of requests, thousands of decisions, each needing his attention as Lord Speaker - not out of his legal authority, but because of the heavy mantle of neutrality the Houses have thrown over his shoulders every time legislative sessions have dissolved into petty squabbling. 

His brain is full of white noise that matches the metallic whine in his ears. So many choices, each one burrowing a place into his thoughts until it’s so muddy and loud he can’t even set his pen down. His eyes are glued to the names on the casualty reports, on their ages, on the details of their burnings and disembowlments and shattered spines - 

“ - Commander. _Aymeric_!”

He starts in his seat and looks up with wide eyes to where Lucia stands in front of his desk with crossed arms. Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his noise, his shoulders twinging uncomfortably. “Yes, Lucia?”

“I took the liberty of rescheduling Lord Artoirel’s meeting to tomorrow morning.” Her chin tilted up, she inspects him with narrowed eyes. “You didn’t respond to me at all when he arrived.”

“Seven hells.” He drops his head into his hands. “Was he in the room?”

“No. He didn’t see you.” She glances over her shoulder back toward the door to the chamber, her eyebrows quirking. “You need to leave, Lord Commander.”

“What? Why would I leave?” He grabs at the reports with fumbling hands. “These need to be completed and returned to the Quartermaster Lieutenant.” 

“Because you have company outside you shouldn’t keep waiting.” Lucia’s face relaxes a little when he meets her gaze. “Go home. The dead can wait for one more night.” 

Curiosity overwhelming his tension, Aymeric nods and rises. He grabs his coat off the back of his chair and shrugs it on. Lucia and he share wordless looks of farewell as she begins to extinguish the lamps in the room, and he pushes open the heavy doors of his chamber and then the main building. 

He inhales the bitter air when he steps out onto the street. The chill is sobering, slowing the rattling in his head. He looks around and up for a familiar silhouette. 

Estinien sits on a nearby low rooftop, one leg drawn up to rest his elbow on his knee. He holds a book open with one hand, but looks up quickly when he hears the doors to the Temple Knights chambers thud close. Aymeric watches as Estinien stands fluidly and hops off the roof, hitting the ground with the odd weightlessness of a dragoon. 

He meets Estinien on the main road before his previous perch. Estinien is dressed down in civilian clothes - relatively, at least- with his only armor being boots and pauldrons with a harness across the back to hold his lance. Aymeric sees a light dusting of tan across his cheeks and nose, as those he’s spent the last two months somewhere much warmer. Grinning crookedly, Aymeric lolls his head to the side. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you read something longer than operation orders.” 

Estinien grunts, leaning his shoulder into Aymeric’s as they begin to walk. “Stole it from Alphinaud.” He squints thoughtfully. “Accidentally took a sketchbook first. I learned…much.”

Snorting, Aymeric angles their route not to the de Borel manor but to Estinien’s apartment - also owned by House de Borel, and used far more by Aymeric, but still ostensibly Estinien’s quarters on the occasions he deigns to return to Ishgard. They walk in a silence Aymeric usually fills with questions. The incessant voices in Aymeric’s head become dull babbling as he focuses on Estinien’s loose hair around his shoulders and the light scent of lavender and pine drifting from his head. His armor is polished, and Aymeric realizes Estinien must have gone home and cleaned himself up before meeting Aymeric. He feels his body warming every time Estinien brushes against him, like it's covered in static energy, like his skin is burning to be touched, and he turns his head away from Estinien before his face betrays him.

Estinien’s apartment is nondescript except for its balcony overlooking the markets. As they stand before the door, Estinien pats down the pockets on his trousers. “Fucking key, always missing -”

Aymeric pushes him aside gently with his shoulder, pulling out his own key. “I take it you’re using the kitchen window as an entrance again.” Estinien holds open the door from behind, and Aymeric steps inside to tug off his boots and coat. Estinien locks the door behind them and rests his back on it heavily, beginning the arduous process of undoing the buckles of his armor. 

“Do you want to tea?” He doesn’t wait for an answer and heads straight to the apartment’s small kitchen. On the counter is a black magitek kettle, and he grabs it to fill it from the tap leading out to the building’s cistern. White noise swells again in his skull, threatening to pull him under - _should I have ordered more security for the farmer’s market in the Brume should I have contacted Artoirel before ending the day should I have brought home the reports to read before tomorrow’s war room meeting should I have picked up fresh fruit for Estinien should I make ceylon tea or citrus tea_ -

Aymeric sets the kettle back down on the counter with more force than necessary, jarring a little sense back into his limbs. Humming distractedly to himself, he turns on the kettle and pulls two heavy ceramic mugs from the cabinet. Then he opens the next cabinet over, revealing a varied stock of teas, reserves, and honeys.

 _Oh, fuck_. He stands there, still humming distantly, hand frozen to the cabinet door. There are a few dozen tins of tea in the cabinet and none of them stand out. All of them do. _What would Estinien want? He likes sweet notes even if he won’t admit it, but sometimes he wants something bitter…green tea with honey steeped a minute too long? Lemongrass tea with a hint of molasses? There’s a white tea with hibiscus and red currant. Or the breakfas_ t -

“Aymeric.” He jumps, the hair raising on the back of his neck. He hadn’t heard Estinien approach over the roar of ocean waves in his ears. Estinien presses his chest into Aymeric’s back and drapes his arms over Aymeric’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question, Estinien’s breath ghosting over Aymeric’s ear and cheekbone, and he sighs and presses back into Estinien’s chest.

“I don’t know what tea to make and the kettle’s almost ready.”

Estinien hums thoughtfully, the noise just barely rippling against Aymeric’s skin. “Green tea.” He reaches over Aymeric, pushing him into the counter, and grabs the nearest jar of honey. “There.”

Aymeric exhales slowly, some of the tension releasing from his shoulders. He reaches for a tin of green tea and hesitates when he sees another tin of green tea right next to it, this one imported from Kugane. _Should we do the sweeter Kugane tea or the Shroud tea that will be just as sweet with honey but it would be nice to treat Estinien but would he even notice the difference because I won’t notice the difference right now and Estinien already grabbed out honey and the Kugane tea is meant to be drank pure but_ -

“By the Fury’s tits - “ Estinien leans heavily into Aymeric again and grabs the tin Aymeric’s fingers are all but frozen in front of. He steps away to grab a spoon, and Aymeric feels anxiety rise up his ribcage to replace Estinien’s weight against him. Aymeric watches quietly as Estinien’s scoops tea leaves into tiny mesh bags and tosses them into the mugs. The kettle begins to whine, and for a brief moment the whistling dulls the ringing in his ears to almost nothing. Then Estinien is switching off the kettle and pouring hot water into the mugs, and the apartment fills with buzzing again.

“Careful.” Estinien hands Aymeric a mug that he reaches for automatically. They stand there for a moment in silence, steam drifting between them, before Estinien scowls. “Aymeric, go sit down.”

Aymeric nods and turns on his heel to walk back into the living area. He sits down onto the chaise, noting absently that Estinien already stoked the fireplace, and holds the mug to his sternum. Estinien follows and sits down with a sigh, placing his mug on the side table. “Now tell me - what’s going on?”

Aymeric is silent for several long moments. The burn of the ceramic against his skin keeps him grounded in his body. “I can’t - I’m tired of making decisions.” He realizes he’s bouncing his right leg and stops for a second, but it restarts as soon as he’s distracted by speaking. “The Lords are - we’re in a series of partisan votes, and I keep having to break ties with my vote. And they - Durendaire - they’re pushing to send more troops west. So I have to argue as Speaker and as Lord Commander.” He closes his eyes. “Whenever they fight like children in the schoolyard, they look to me to - " He sighs, dropping his head. "They want me to make every hard choice for them."

“Do you want me to decide for you?”

Eyes widening, Aymeric looks over at Estinien, who has an elbow on the arm of the chaise and his chin in his palm. His body appears lax, but Aymeric can see the tense lines of his thighs beneath his trousers and his pupils, dilated beneath hooded lids. A storm cloud of energy rolls off of him, and _oh_ , is this not a sight Aymeric missed. “Yes. _Please_.”

A smirk slowly curves Estinien mouth. He takes his time standing up from the couch, pretending to brush dust off his clothes. Aymeric straightens in his seat, eyes trained on Estinien’s every move, on Estinien stretching his arms upward in fluid motion that flexes his shoulders. 

Aymeric makes a noise of impatience in the back of his mouth, and Estinien turns dark eyes on him, baring his canines in a wicked smile. “None of that whining. You already made your choice.” He softens quickly, though. “Bedroom.” 

If Aymeric scrambles to his feet a little unsteadily, Estinien makes no comment. Aymeric sets his quickly-cooling mug on the side table and passes into the small bedroom behind the kitchen. The comforter is tugged back messily - _Estinien slept here today_ , he thinks absently - and the golden light of the evening sun is softened by the curtains of the room’s two little windows. He sits on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the comforter and heel tapping quickly against the floorboard. 

He hears Estinien rummaging around the living room before swearing quietly and entering the bedroom. Estinien heads straight for the wardrobe and flings the doors open, a look of such pure concentration on his face that Aymeric has to cover his own mouth with the back of a hand. Brightening a little, Estinien spots his target and retrieves a black canvas bag from the top shelf of the wardrobe. 

_Fuck_. Aymeric schools the surprise off of his face as Estinien moves to the foot of the bed and sets down the bag. He pulls out a length of soft rope and some strips of soft red satin. He holds up one of the satin strips, tilting his head as he studies Aymeric. 

Heat pools beneath Aymeric’s stomach and he closes his eyes for a second. This is _Aymeric’s_ territory - the dark red chosen to warm the pale of Estinien’s hair, the corded rope just rough enough to leave patterns on his skin. And now _this_ \- the dark red warm against the palm of Estinien’s hand, making Aymeric’s pulse race. 

Satin in hand, Estinien rounds the bed to stand between Aymeric’s legs. He smiles crookedly when Aymeric’s thighs tighten around him. “I ask again - do you want me to decide for you?” Aymeric reaches up to pull him closer, but Estinien draws back a little and holds the satin above his head. His voice is low and already throaty. “Use your words.”

“Yes.” Aymeric rubs at his face with a hand. “I don’t want to think. Just for a bit.” His face burns at the pleading notes in his own voice.

“Good boy.” Aymeric looks up quickly, chest tightening at those words, but Estinien’s face is relaxed. He grabs the back of Aymeric’s head and leans in, his kiss firm and insistent. Aymeric grips the fabric of Estinien’s shirt, trying to drag him closer, and far too quickly Estinien is pulling away with a breathy laugh. “Move back, against the headboard.”

Nodding, Aymeric shuffles himself until his back is against wood. Adjusting the pillow behind him, he looks up to see Estinien still standing, one knee resting on the bed. “What is it?”

Estinien cocks his head, eyes roaming over Aymeric with a hunter's intesnity. “Shirt off.” Aymeric complies, pulling the hem of his shirt from his trousers and over his head, loosely folding it before tossing it onto the floor. Then Estinien is crawling up the bed, over Aymeric, pushing his legs apart to settle between them. 

Aymeric sighs as Estinien drops his weight onto him, lips pressed into his neck. The heaviness is calming, as though Estinien can hold down all of the many thoughts threatening to burst out of him. He tangles his fingers in Estinien’s hair and pulls when sharp teeth scrape at the crook of his neck. Estinien licks the bite soothingly and moves to Aymeric’s collarbone, kissing down towards his nipple. “Estinien - “ His hand tightens in Estinien’s hair, fingernails scratching his scalp, and he feels a groan drag up Estinien’s chest. 

Estinien sits back and Aymeric aches, _oh he aches_ at the loss of pressure. Leaning back, Estinien grabs the rope from the foot of the bed. He holds it between them with arched eyebrows. “Your hands are a distraction.”

“Am I not allowed to touch, now?”

Estinien’s brow lowers at the grin on Aymeric’s face. “Actually, no. Hands up.”

 _Oh._ Hoping Estinien can't see the way his arms shake, Aymeric raises his hands above his head to one of the headboard’s posts. Estinien stretches over him, making careful loops around Aymeric’s wrists, and Aymeric wants _so badly_ to reach up, to bite at the familiar scar trailing down the side of Estinien’s ribcage, to push him down into the mattress and press himself into the long line of Estinien’s back. 

Estinien tugs the rope, drawing slack through the main knot, and Aymeric shocks himself with the whimper that spills out of him. _Perhaps he wants this more_. Estinien laughs, running his fingers down Aymeric’s arms as he sits back. “Are you comfortable?”

Aymeric nods and shifts against the bed, drawing his legs up around Estinien. “’s good.” He watches, breath in his throat, as Estinien picks up the strip of satin once again. When Estinien holds the satin against Aymeric’s temple, testing, Aymeric presses his head into Estinien’s palm. “Yes, do it, whatever you want, just do it -”

With deft fingers, Estinien brushes aside Aymeric’s curls and drapes the satin over his eyes and around the back of his head. He ties a snug catch and runs his fingers along the bottom of the satin. “Are you good?”

“Yes, _fucking_ yes,” Aymeric says. The satin is soft and cool against his skin and he opens his eyes, relishing in the darkness. Lifting his hips, he ruts against the leg Estinien has still pressed between his thighs.

Estinien growls, a soft sound that makes goosebumps rise on Aymeric’s arms. He feels the bed shifting, and then Estinien’s mouth is on his stomach, biting at the lines of his hips. His fingers tug at Aymeric’s trousers, not enough to pull them down but enough to expose the dark curls trailing down from Aymeric’s belly button. Aymeric gasps and squirms when Estinien buries his nose into the hair and nips at the soft skin. He’s already _burning_ , Estinien’s hand on his thighs and his mouth just inches too high, and everything is too warm, and Aymeric tugs hard at the ropes and squeezes his thighs around Estinien’s shoulders.

Drawing back, Estinien hooks his fingers on the hem of Aymeric’s trousers and drags them down along with his small-clothes. Aymeric can feel Estinien’s impatience as he tugs at the fabric that gets caught around Aymeric’s ankles. There is a cold, terrible moment where Aymeric cannot feel any part of Estinien on himself and his breath catches in his throat, and the darkness feels much deeper, and then Estinien’s hands are on his thighs and his hot breath brushes over Aymeric’s dick. 

“Pent up, much?” Estinien asks and somehow his voice has dropped even _lower_ , the sound making Aymeric arch his back to find more contact. Estinien tightens his grip on Aymeric’s thighs, his nails pricking at skin, and then his tongue licks up the length of Aymeric’s dick.

Aymeric’s breath leaves him in a stuttering rush. Estinien leaves his dick and bites down, _hard_ , on the inside of his right thigh, sucking at the spot when Aymeric groans. Releasing his grip on Aymeric’s leg, Estinien grabs the base of Aymeric’s dick, callouses rough against tender skin, before his mouth is on him. He circles the tip with his tongue, pressing against the vein that makes Aymeric shudder with his whole body, and then sinks lower. 

“ _Oh_ , Es-stinien.” He jerks his hips when Estinien sucks and moves his tongue all at once. Estinien slides his left arm across Aymeric’s stomach to keep him still. Fingers still holding the base of his cock, Estinien lets his thumb rub along Aymeric’s balls. He bobs his head at an agonizingly slow pace, careful not to catch Aymeric’s skin with his long teeth. Aymeric sighs and shifts his legs restlessly, body caught fast beneath Estinien’s arm. 

Just as precum starts to spill from Aymeric’s tip, Estinien releases him, giving him a wet lick before leaving him to the chilly air. “What are you -” Aymeric starts, before Estinien places two fingers on his lips to shush him.

Hearing the drawer of the bedside table drag open, Aymeric licks and bites at the fingers. Exhaling heavily, Estinien pushes his fingers into Aymeric’s mouth. “Are you truly determined to distract me at every opportunity?” He closes the drawer noisily with his other hand.

As a response, Aymeric sucks on his fingers with a soft moan, eyelashes fluttering against the blindfold. He leans forward, teeth scraping against Estinien’s knuckles, and Estinien roughly pushes a third finger into his mouth. He presses his face into the side of Aymeric’s neck for a moment, breathing in slowly, before drawing himself and his fingers back. “Your mouth is tempting, but I have other plans.”

Aymeric sighs loudly as Estinien shuffles back down the bed once more. He hears a vial being opened, and then Estinien lays down, his weight shifting the bed slightly. He grabs Aymeric’s legs behind the knees and pulls them over his shoulders before his mouth surrounds Aymeric’s dick again. Aymeric hisses at the sudden warmth and presses his heels into Estinien’s ribcage. 

Slick fingers run through the hair on the inside of his thigh before gently pulling his asscheeks apart. The fingers circle his hole as Estinien pushes his mouth further down Aymeric’s dick, and he thumps his shoulders against the board as he fights his restraints. Humming around Aymeric, Estinien presses one finger in slowly to the second knuckle. Aymeric presses a heel sharply into Estinien’s back as he drags his finger out slowly and then _back_. 

Aymeric cranes his head as if to see what Estinien’s doing. “By the Fury, if you go any slower, I’m going to fall asleep right here.” The lie is blatant and Estinien laughs with Aymeric’s dick in his mouth, the rumbling of the sound shooting white-hot to Aymeric’s core. He moans despite himself, trying to muffle the noise against his shoulder. Estinien takes pity and presses another finger into him, crooking them experimentally. 

“Fu- _uck_!” Aymeric keens when Estinien finds his mark, cock twitching with precum. Estinien draws back to lick at him, fingers pumping. “Estinien, more, gods -” He throws his head back, hips jerking with no rhythm. 

“If you insist.” 

Aymeric can hear the smirk in his voice as Estinien kisses the side of his cock and then bites gently at his hipbone. He pushes in a third finger, carefully, as he worries at the bite with his teeth. Breath stuttering, Aymeric pushes up into Estinien’s mouth, and the teeth closer harder on his skin until they break the surface. Estinien licks the wound, and Aymeric pictures his blood on Estinien’s lips as Estinien finger-fucks him, faster now, _deeper_. 

Dropping his right leg off of Estinien’s back, Aymeric braces himself against the sheets and meets Estinien’s fingers. The slight burn of the stretch fades beneath the throbbing of his hip and Estinien’s bent fingers. Estinien lifts himself up on one elbow, turning his face to the inside of Aymeric’s left thigh still draped over his shoulder, and kisses his skin open-mouthed. 

Aymeric feels too much at once - the shaking of his own leg holding up his bodyweight, the rope scratching at his wrist, his dick leaking against his stomach, Estinien’s hand on his thigh in a death grip. He can’t tell if the blindfold is a blessing or if it’s making everything more. He’s getting too close to the edge and moans something, maybe Estinien’s name, maybe a half-formed prayer to Halone, and Estinien pulls back. He slides his fingers out slowly and carefully lowers Aymeric’s leg to the mattress. Aymeric shivers and feels his body step back from the edge. 

Estinien shuffles up the bed, with his legs straddling Aymeric this time. He undoes the main knot holding the rope to the bedpost and lowers Aymeric’s still-bound wrists for him. “Do you want these off?” Aymeric shakes his head, feeling blood rush back into his hands, and Estinien fingers the satin blindfold. “This?” 

“No,” Aymeric replies immediately. “I - I need the quiet.”

“Alright.” Estinien pets at his hair for just a moment before moving off of his hips. “Roll over.” 

Aymeric feels his face burn, but he obeys and rolls clumsily onto his stomach, bound palms pressing into the bed. He hides his face in the pillow and listens to the slide of fabric as Estinien finally strips. He feels like his blush might cover his whole body, especially when Estinien grabs his ass roughly and massages it. _Why did he remember this what must I look like oh gods he’s watching me oh-_

His racing thoughts short-circuit when Estinien lays himself on top of Aymeric, legs between his thighs. Estinien is heavy on his ribcage and it’s a little hard to breathe and Aymeric - Aymeric’s head goes silent. Estinien licks at the back of his neck, running fingernails through his hair, and his dick is hot and slick where it’s trapped against Aymeric’s ass. 

Estinien pulls back and places his hand on the back of Aymeric’s neck, fingers tight but not suffocating. He drags his cock between Aymeric’s asscheeks, tip catching on his rim, and Aymeric whines into the pillow. After Nidhogg, Estinien is longer than he once was, and a little thicker, with a ridge that swells along the underside of his cock. It’s not familiar yet to Aymeric, not inside at least, but he thinks maybe that’s a good thing when Estinien begins to press into him.

It’s a stretch, even after Estinien’s fingers. Aymeric grips the sheets beneath him and exhales. Estinien leans down and kisses along Aymeric’s spine apologetically. He holds still until Aymeric relaxes and pushes himself back onto Estinien. Groaning raggedly, Estinien slides all the way in. The ridge on his cock drags inside Aymeric and he gasps breathlessly against the pillow already gone damp. Estinien pulls out just until the tip and shoves back in, rougher this time, and Aymeric arches his back against the sudden heat in his stomach. 

Estinien grips Aymeric's hip with one sharp-nailed hand and fucks him fast. Aymeric turns his face for air, cheekbone in the pillow and palms struggling to hold himself up. Estinien is almost too long now, almost too deep when he thrusts in, and Aymeric moans pieces of Estinien's name every time the ridge rubs against his prostate. 

Slowing, Estinien widens his stance and presses himself again into Aymeric's back. His elbows bracket Aymeric's chest but he's still solid, choking weight. Aymeric feels himself drooling against the sheets but can't move as Estinien pushes as far into him as he can, balls hitting his skin. He latches onto Aymeric's neck with his teeth and thrusts slowly.

"Estinien," Aymeric manages. "Estini-en, _oh_ , Es-es -"

Estinien shifts his weight onto one elbow and pushes his hand between Aymeric's stomach and the mattress. His dry palm goes wet quickly as he spreads the slickness from Aymeric's tip down his length, and the relief brings stinging tears to Aymeric's eyes. Estinien's callouses are almost too much friction, and his teeth draw blood from Aymeric's neck, and he's pressed _so deep into him_ -

Aymeric comes with a low, broken moan. The space behind his eyes goes white and fuzzy as Estinien milks the orgasm out of him, thumb rubbing just under the sensitive head of his cock. Aymeric feels, from a great distance, the sheets sticking to his stomach and the rope burning around his wrists. Then Estinien releases his cock and clutches at Aymeric's chest, sucking on his neck and curling into him. His length is hot and twitching inside Aymeric when he finally comes with a growl against Aymeric's skin. 

Estinien lays his full weight on top of Aymeric for a few suffocating seconds that make Aymeric's cock jump again. Then he draws back, sliding carefully out of Aymeric. Kneeling, he gently rolls Aymeric over onto his back, pulling the blindfold off of his face. 

Blinking owlishly in the low light, Aymeric watches as Estinien unties the ropes from his wrists. He frowns and rubs his thumbs over Aymeric's raw skin. "Too tight."

Aymeric shakes his hands awake and reaches up to grab Estinien's face. "It was good." He pulls Estinien down to kiss his forehead. 

Estinien silently accepts the kiss, but his face is serious when he draws back. "Aymeric - " he starts, studying Aymeric's face, but cuts himself short. "I'll get towels."

Aymeric almost falls asleep in the time it takes for Estinien to draw hot water and get towels. He hums contentedly when he feels a warm cloth wipe his stomach and thighs down. Estinien lifts his legs to clean him off and Aymeric goes hot again when he feels come drip out of him. 

Estinien tosses the washcloth out into the hall and rolls Aymeric halfway over to lay a towel beneath him. He tosses another towel down beside Aymeric and crawls onto it to sit up against the headboard.

Aymeric flings an arm onto Estinien's chest, turning over to look at him. "What are you doing?" he mumbles, words thick and sloppy. 

Reaching over to the side table, Estinien grabs his ill-begotten book. "What does it look like? Go to sleep." His voice is gruff, but he drops a hand to Aymeric's hair in placation. 

Aymeric falls asleep with no words in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> just wanted to write something fun and soft to make my bad week better!! 
> 
> the whole ear-ringing thing with Aymeric is meant to be both from anxiety and from the tinnitus i assume most of this game's warrior characters have ended up with. (sometimes you just gotta vent through fic, you know?) i really didn't hit squarely on the characterizations i wanted because i prefer both of these boys to be rough around the edges but such is the peril of practice pieces.
> 
> also: i'm still new to this game/fandom but i am super open to FFXIV requests or prompts! ^^


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